Silver Fox Smile
by LuipaardJack
Summary: Jack has something on his mind. Daniel needs to know. But can a human love a demon? JD slash. More like PG15...


For **Read300300**! Because I love her so much!

Oh...I hope you like this! It's something that came out of my deranged little mind... _passes out Daniel and Jack plushies_

And please, no matter who you are, review! LOVE TEH JACK/DANIEL-SLASHNESS!

Ok, I'll stop scaring people now. _sweatdrop_

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own 'em. Dammit.

_-.-.-.-.-.-._

_You have to say it some time._

You tell yourself that. That you have to say it to him; that you have to tell him. He, of all people, has the right to know.

And you're trying. You have your grip on his arm, forcing his name past your lips, trying not to stutter. And you take a deep breath, for what you are about to say, for the mask you are about to take off.

Because even foxes need to breath. Because foxes can't be cunning and clever all the time. Because foxes can't walk around with a mask on forever.

And aren't you a fox?

You've read about it somewhere. You've read about what the Japanese call "fox smiles." They're smiles that are so wide and huge that they make your eyes crinkle until they shut, hiding them. And that way people won't know what you're thinking and feeling, since such things are read through the eyes.

Apparently it comes from the foxes themselves; their eyes are squeezed together so tight that you can't see the dark orbs at all. So, you can't tell what they're thinking.

And aren't you a fox? Isn't that smile your mask, the one that you always wear? Because that way no one can tell what you are thinking.

Your thoughts. Because you are the Silver Fox of the SGC.

...How'd you get that name anyway?

When did the personnel give it to you? Why? You remember that the first time you heard it you had a fit of laughter that was almost hysterical. Carter ended up having to pour water on your head because you wouldn't stop laughing.

But now, with your mask, it makes so much more sense.

_Because you _are_ a fox,_ the analytical part of you whispers. _And a jerk, and a murderer, and for some reason the people here respect you. Even love you. They love you, and your smirk and your grief, and your face, and hair, and the way you bleed and fight and scream-_

That's right, you think insanely. That's right. They gave it to you a year after you came here.

They called you "Silver Fox."

_Because you're cunning, and smart, and you know how to lay traps, and you always, always,_ _ALWAYS know when to pounce, and rip out your enemy's throat, and taste the sweet, sweet blood -_

_STOP THIS!_

You can't say it. You know you can't. The words are there, in your throat, but they won't come, they're lodged, and now he's looking at you with worry in those lovely blue eyes, the ones that make your knees go weak-

So you kiss him.

Right there, in the hall. You kiss him. Right where everyone can see.

You grab his waist, and pull him close, his lips smashed against yours.

It's an eternity, standing there. Feeling the soft flutter of his heart, feeling the sweet tremble in his body, the warmth flooding from him and into you.

Like his light dispelling your darkness.

You want that light. You've always wanted that light, always craved and hungered for it.

Because you've never been able to have it. Because the light has never loved you the way it has him. Rather, it has tolerated you. Gritted its teeth in your presence.

But the shadows...they love you. They have always loved you.

Even when you where a child, they loved you. They caressed you and hid you, from the drunken uncle in his fits of rage, from the teacher you played pranks on. Always, they took you in, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, wrapping around you in a sweet, smoky blanket – hiding you.

They loved you the most in your years with the Black Ops; you were always the swiftest and the fastest, always the least likely to be caught. The shadows would always wrap you in their shadowy embrace, so you'd disappear like smoke. The only hint of you being there would perhaps be the lingering smell of gunpowder, and a bloody boot print on the floor.

If you were there at all.

_Demon fox, demon fox! Accursed, the nine-tailed kitsune, beloved to the Orient-_

_DEMON! DEMON!_

_NO, I'M NOT! I'M NOT! I'M NOT, I'M NOT I'M NOT, IMNOTIMNOTIMNOT-_

He pushes you away, bewilderment, fear and hurt in his eyes, the blue eyes that always make your knees go weak.

You turn away. You turn away, from him and the rejection in his eyes. You turn away, because you can't stand to see him in pain - and the worst of it is, you are the CAUSE of his pain.

_Demon fox, demon fox, Demon Silver Fox..._

No one was in the hallway to see. They were all at the briefing. The only thing to catch the encounter was the cameras.

So, you plaster your Silver Fox mask on, the fox smile. The one that stretches your face, until no one can see your eyes, and see the pain and horror and sorrow there...and the Other Thing. What Daniel saw.

What Daniel felt.

You smile, and head towards the room where they watch with cameras.

You smile so no one can see the love-insanity in your eyes.

.-.-.-.-.-.-

Kitsune: Japanese multi-tailed demon fox. They can be gold, silver or black. Hence Jack being a kitsune, since he's a Silver Fox!

Please, R and R!


End file.
